If it’s possible to stand out by blending in, designer Tina Frey’s new studio, located in the Bayview district among industrial warehouses that stockpile marine or roofing supplies, would be an archetype of this aesthetic balancing act. The former wine-storage facility’s new black corrugated-metal exterior is at once chic and unpretentious — kind of like Frey, who answers the door on a Tuesday morning in a casual ensemble that is essentially sneakers and jeans, but somehow much more, well, uptown.
The 1979 building’s dark facade gives the newly renovated interior — bright and airy with a soaring ceiling and freshly coated gallery-white walls — even more impact. Clocking in at 7,500 square feet, the space seems expansive enough to park a private jet, although the only motorized vehicles granted access these days are Frey’s Smartcar, which she steers into a side garage for recharging, and a scissor lift, which will help hang from the 21-foot ceiling the tiered chandeliers she created for the September 2014 Maison et Objet design fair in Paris.
Made of colorful resin spectacle frames, the fixtures embody a certain lightheartedness that Frey’s designs are known for: The fall 2014 Pom Pom collection, for example, featured bunny-tail tufts of yarn fastened atop resin canisters, and for spring 2018, she’s designed containers —from small ring boxes to bigger storage tables — with flush-fitting resin lids in candy colors. The collection, dubbed with another fun reduplication, Bon Bon, was inspired by the packaging for the Apple AirPods.
“I like soft, rounded corners. I find them to be soothing,” says Frey, whose previous career as a certified public accountant for such local brands as Gap, Levi’s and Timbuk2, might indicate a preference for more precision contours.
A velvety, wabi-sabi finish is a signature of her line, which she launched in 2007 after she found herself devoting fewer workdays to finance, a profession she calls “safe but grueling,” and more to her creative pursuits — drawing, sewing, sculpting. After noticing a trend of resin art books on her shelf, she took the hint, and began to experiment with the plasticky material, which doesn’t require heat to work with and is particularly receptive to shaping by the human hand. Still, good old-fashioned Bauhausian functionality is just as appealing to her.
“I also find lidded boxes to be very useful. It’s nice to have a place to put things.”
Funny, that’s precisely the reason she moved her studio from Dogpatch. Frey set up shop there in 2013, and outgrew the 4,000-square-foot space several years later, although she admits that the skyrocketing rents that come with the inevitable gentrification of the San Francisco hinterlands are what propelled her into the Bayview. “Now I really feel like I’m in one of the last frontiers of the city,” says the Forest Hill resident.
Having only moved into the new studio in October after a quickie phase-one renovation — in which the practically decomposing roof was replaced and the entire building re-insulated — Frey could consider herself among the first, maybe second, possibly third wave of creatives who are taking advantage of some of the lowest property values in the city. The Den, Craftsman and Wolves’ pared-down Yosemite Street cafe, opened in April 2016.
Down the road, the Yosemite Place artist studios, housed in the former Serta Mattress factory, has been a long-standing creative presence in the area, and the nearby Hunters Point Shipyard artist community was established in 1983. Craft breweries also love a good fringe location, and as such have had an enduring presence in the neighborhood: Speakeasy Ales & Lagers, of Big Daddy IPA fame, put down roots in 1997; the Laughing Monk taproom, where Cards Against Humanity games achieve higher stakes with every sip of a Sainted Ladies Strawberry Milkshake IPA, opened in 2016.
Expecting the slow but steady ramp-up of in-the-know habitues and farsighted home buyers to continue as more stylish businesses and artist communities settle there, Frey has decided to open her studio to the public. Located in the front half of the warehouse (business operations happen behind a translucent-glass partition in the back; Frey’s office and photo studio are on the mezzanine), the showroom/shop is austere and quiet, a lovely counterpoint to the gritty environs.
Neatly displayed on a large wheeled work table or long cantilevered shelves are the designer’s resin and brass wares, from her signature ice buckets with knotted leather handles to chef Alain Ducasse’s favorite serving platters, to the Bon Bon boxes and the irresistible rainbow they bestow upon an otherwise restrained space.
Since fixtures aren’t permanently anchored into the concrete floor, the space is flexible, and so is the inventory: For the first time, Frey will include select pieces from other artists and designers among her offerings. On a recent trip to the Milan furniture fair in Italy, she sourced vintage etchings by Italian illustrator Gianfranco Baruchello and simple midcentury-era graphics by the late Vincenzo Agnetti to sell in the shop, along with Kalon Studios’ green-wood benches and stumps, which will crack with age, making each piece unique beyond its grain.
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“I don’t use wood as a material, but I think its earthiness adds another layer of depth to our line,” Frey says. A wooden skateboard leans against a wall in the shop, and although it’s not for sale, it fits right in. Likewise, when the designer, dressed in her go-to skinny denim and Stan Smith Adidas, rides the deck around her new neighborhood (mostly on latte runs to Craftsman), she fits right in, too.
Leilani Marie Labong is a freelance writer in San Francisco and The Chronicle's contributing home editor. Email: style@sfchronicle.com. Instagram: @leilanimarielabong.
Visit Tina Frey: 1485 Bancroft Ave., S.F. www.tinafreydesigns.com.